


Welcome Home

by haleofagoodtime



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Clothes Swap kink, Fingering, M/M, Masturbation, Stiles wears Derek's leather jacket, post meeting sex, pounding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:20:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22126261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haleofagoodtime/pseuds/haleofagoodtime
Summary: Derek comes home to find Stiles there waiting for him. In his bed.
Relationships: Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 6
Kudos: 353





	Welcome Home

There was something about stuffy meetings and being stuck in a bumpy airplane ride that had his wolf thrashing around for some sort of release, a breath of fresh air, at least five feet of free moving space around his entire body. His senses were on overload. He’d accidentally focused his attention on the people around him: a small child that could no keep his limbs to himself, his mother with a soap opera blaring away in her ears, and an obnoxiously loud man snoring. Tuning in to other parts of the plane were of no use to him either. It was the same four kinds of people spread across the aisles as though there had been some kind of planned flight for Those Assholes.

When he got back to the loft, he wanted so desperately to just curl up in bed and just turn everything off. Relax. Breathe. _Do nothing._ He dropped his bag onto the couch, draping his suit jacket on the backside when he stopped.

There was another bag — another bag that wasn’t _his,_ sitting next to the kitchen table. Papers were strewn about the table in no organized manner that was distinctly organized for only one person he knew. That also had a key. And had been welcomed by Derek personally.

“Stiles,” he exhaled. He listened for him, cocking his head every which way before stubbornly shaking himself out of the pure static void of the human’s heartbeat.

Which only meant he was in his bedroom. Again.

Derek made his way up the stairs.

The last time Stiles had been left to his lonesome in the loft, he’d buried himself into the largest Blanket Burrito Derek had ever seen and had three different bags of Doritos laying on his bed with their varying degrees of dust sprinkles over the sheets. It’d taken him weeks to get the stains out.

As soon as his hand had grasped the handle and cracked the seal on the sound barrier, he knew — _and smelled —_ that it was not the same incident as before. Not even close.

He couldn’t breathe, let alone move or even think properly.

Stiles was spread _wide_ in the center of his bed, his head thrown back to expose the long stretch of his throat arched and choking on a moan. One hand twisted and pulled desperately at his cock, the poor thing positively _dripping_ with no other signs of release on his chest. The other was preoccupied trying to maneuver an impressively large dildo in and out of his ass, with no such luck judging by his high pitch whines.

What was the most startling was the fact that Stiles was wearing _his jacket._ His _leather_ jacket. He didn’t need to get any closer to the bed to know that the jacket was _drenched_ in the scent of the man. He’d must have been at it for a while, contorting and chasing something that had been out of his reach but too desperate to do anything other than pitch and whine, and Derek could kneel there and help him, bend him and arch him into the perfect place to watch him cry out and dirty his sheets with the scent of _them —_

 _“Derek,”_ punched through the air and straight to his cock. Derek stood to attention, eyes no doubt glowing.

The man wasn’t looking at him, hadn’t even noticed him yet. His cock twitched again at the thought of watching him unravel by the pure thought of him. He opened the first few buttons of his shirt before popping open his cuffs and rolled the sleeves past his elbows.

_“Ng — Derek.”_

His pants strained uncomfortably with his pulsating cock just waiting to spring free and bury deep inside of the boy’s heat. His wolf wanted nothing more than to press him into the depths of the mattress and just _breed —_

“ _Derek, get over here, you dick.”_

Now he was looking at him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think his eyes were glowing, but he was nowhere close to that yet.

“Been at it for hours…” He panted, trying to regain the breath that’d been punched out of his lungs. He kept a firm hand at the base of his cock, but kept thrusting the toy in with loud squelches. “Need you…”

Derek leaned back against the dresser that faced the bed. As much as he wanted to be right there, holding him and fucking him, he could watch this all day long.

And Stiles caught on quickly, the little shit. His hips bucked forward as he pressed the dildo a little further than he had before. “ _Fucking — Ng._ Making me do this by myself. Dick. _Fucking…”_

A moan cut him off mid-sentence. His back arched, presenting his throat and the curve of his cock.

 _“Need you.”_ He took a quick gasp for air. _“_ Need your cock. I can’t—”

Derek was right there. He guided his legs wider, pressing them gently into the mattress as a sigh eased his entire body. An all-too-pleased smirk twisted his lip upwards. They both knew that Derek wasn’t going to last too long as a spectator.

He placed one hand over Stiles’ and took it away from the toy. The twisted it, feeling just how loose it pulled and moved inside of him. With each turn of his wrist, Stiles twitched and mewled just a little louder.

He made sure to withdraw it nice and slow so that he could feel the air seep into the now-empty space inside of him, then slammed it back inside. The mess of lube and other fluids coated his fingers, only aiding in his plans for the future.

Stiles pitched a high whine, arching and turning his heated gaze to the man. _“Need—”_

Derek hummed. “I know what you need.”

He drew out the toy again, this time setting it aside. Stiles had half a plea for his cock again before he choked with three of Derek’s fingers stuffing him full.

_“Fuck. Derek.”_

“I plan to,” he said with a smirk, spreading his three fingers as wide as he could before Stiles whined again. His hands twisted into the sheets, pulling them up towards him as though it’d move Derek higher and finally _do something._

Stiles’ hips bucked again, his cock jerking in an aftershock of stimulation. Derek nosed at the junction of his hip and thigh, trailing upwards towards his navel.

_“Fuck me, Derek.”_

“So needy.”

One of his hands pushed into Derek’s dark hair, tugging him upwards to lock eyes with him. The pools of amber were wild with lust. _“I’ll show you needy, Hale.”_

Derek kept his gaze with him as he lowered, skimming his lips over the tip of his cock, following the curve of him down to the root. He placed two open mouth kisses on each of his quivering balls, sucking just barely to make the fingers in his hair pull _perfectly._

_“Derek.”_

He kissed the base of his cock just as he twisted his fingers and curled them just barely to send Stiles’ entire body off of the mattress in a sharp curse. His cock jumped, shooting his load high in the air to splatter across his higher chest and a few droplets on his chin.

His body slumped back but his chest heaved. The man could barely keep his eyes open. Derek made sure they were somewhat open and following him as he unbuckled his belt and opened the front of his suit pants to finally release his own pulsating member from its confinement.

Stiles garbled something incoherent, but his legs spread slightly wider, welcoming him. He twitched, giving himself a quick firm squeeze at the root to make sure he didn’t cum too soon.

He pressed himself against his slightly open hole. Despite the toy and his own fingers, Stiles still felt tight and gripping every inch of his length as he pushed inside. As soon as he reached the hilt, Stiles’ body twitched and the man groaned.

He was perfect. He’d always been a perfect fit for him. Derek couldn’t suppress his animalistic growls and purrs as he ground just a little further and made Stiles react with a cry or a twitch. But his heat was overwhelming. His body started moving on its own.

There was no gradual fucking. Derek was all or nothing, pounding deep and steady until he changed the pace to either last the night or just get the job done. 

And he needed to mark him. _Now._

The sound of their skin slapping against each other echoed endlessly. Stiles’ little mewls became whines then moans and outright crying demands to go _harder_ and _deeper._ And Derek was nothing if not a Stiles-pleaser.

His fingers gripped the boy’s waist just hard enough to leave perfect bruises in the morning, lifting his lower half just slightly off the mattress to get the right angle to make him _scream._

 _“Fuck! Derek!”_ Stiles’ hands made their own semi-permanent marks in Derek’s back.

He tucked his face into the crook of his neck where his scent always welcomed him, invited him. It was mixed with the heady smell of leather, but it was still _StilesStilesStiles._ His wolf cried out to _mark_ and _take_ and _breed_ and Derek made sure his teeth sank into the thick part of his neck.

Stiles’ scream was neither a name nor a plea. It was pure ecstasy. His cock jumped and spurted another round of release while Derek stayed rooted inside of him and above, pulsating and breathing heavily as his own cock filled him full.

The boy hummed a blissful note, before exhaling next to Derek’s ear, “Welcome home.”

Derek hummed, content and thriving on the heavy scent of Stiles in his room. _In his bed._ He absently ran his fingers through the mess on his chest, ignoring his sly _werewolf-kink-scent_ comments.

 _Welcome Home,_ indeed.


End file.
